


you take me all the way

by swishandflickwit



Series: you never forget your first [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, cs au week, cs au week - day 3, cs bangarang, cs fan fic, cs ff, cs in new york, cs smuff, cs smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflickwit/pseuds/swishandflickwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So this is your world’s version of a tavern.”</p><p>She chuckles anyway and adds, to further annoy him, “We’ve upgraded a bit.”</p><p>Tonight is the night they’re about to finish what they started all those 30 years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you take me all the way

**Author's Note:**

> Written for CS AU Week Day 3 which is CS in Another Realm.  
> Now, I’ve never been to New York and Killian I bet had a hell of a time navigating it so I figure to him (and to me) it would classify as an entirely different realm. So.  
> May I present to you, CS in New York!
> 
> I would also like to state for the record that I have never been clubbing so I’m not really sure how the Night Life culture goes. I’m also not much of a drinker which is why I just stuck to tequila. Sorry for the lack of alcoholic beverages variety. Should you see any discrepancies in my portrayal of the Night Life culture as well as drinking etiquette, I apologize profusely in advance and ask that you please ignore it or correct me on it. That would be preferable (omg, educate me pls). 
> 
> This is set after the Snow Queen’s defeat and the Frozen Gang’s return to Arendelle. In this AU, Gold never took Killian’s heart and this is their fifth date within that blissful six weeks before the QOD arrived.
> 
> Title taken from the Maroon 5 song, “Love Somebody” which is totally what they’re dancing to in the fic!

“So this is your world’s version of a tavern.”

He has to shout to be heard and she gathers by the look of bewilderment and irritation on his face that he doesn’t like it. She chuckles anyway and adds, to further annoy him, “We’ve upgraded a bit.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that seeing as an upgrade would suggest an improvement upon a previous standard. This…” He gestures to their surroundings using his prosthetic hand with a mild expression of displeasure.

She takes that same hand in hers and tugs him towards the bar.

The Snow Queen had been defeated thanks to her and Elsa’s combined magic. Cheers and celebrations were abundant in Storybrooke that night and very well into the following day. Emma couldn’t turn a corner without a citizen either congratulating her, patting her on the back or waving at her during the subsequent week and while it was great at first – a tight-knit community never something she was accustomed to growing up – it became quite tiring after a while. People skills weren’t exactly her strong suit and having to greet so many people as she walked down Main Street had, inevitably, gotten to her nerves.

Her mother noticed, of course, and suggested she take a night out for herself. While Emma would usually reject the notion, a night off sounded oh _so_ appealing after the week she had had. Emma would also usually bask in some solitude after spending day and night with her parents and some days with her son in their cramped apartment but there’s one person Emma hasn’t had the opportunity to spend much time with despite the festivities and so she opted to take him with her on her night off.

A night off that entailed blowing off some steam.

With her pirate.

In a night club.

 _Yeah_ , she thinks, _this is my life_.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she says as she flags the bartender down and slaps her credit card onto the wood of the countertop. “But I promise you you’re going to have a lot of fun.”

She orders them two shots of tequila and hands one to him. He eyes it peculiarly and with much suspicion but follows her lead when she chugs it down. He grimaces but she takes it as a good sign when he doesn’t look at his empty shot glass with revulsion.

“I dunno what was in that drink and even more curious, I’m not entirely opposed to another…?”

Emma laughs.

“I know that feeling all too well. Welcome to the World of Tequila, Jones.”

He raises his eyebrow at his surname on her lips but smirks all the same.

“Indeed and what a,” he frowns when a drunken person stumbles slightly into him and laughs in his ear, “warm welcome it is.”

She stifles the laugh that threatens to come out of her in waves, and settles for giving him a devious smile, “I am going to get you _so_ drunk.”

He scoffs. “You can try, love, but I’m 300 years old. I’ve the constitution of a rock.”

She looks at him aghast. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means, _you’re never gonna get me drunk_.”

This time, she doesn’t stop the laughter tumbling from her lips.

“We’ll see about that.”

In fact, she’s making it her mission –-- to finally follow through on that night when he was _Hook_ and she was the wench who stole his attention and _did_ get him drunk.

Tonight is the night they’re about to finish what they started all those 30 years ago.

 _Yup_ , she thinks, _this is going to be_ fun.

**~oOo~**

“What’s that you were saying about having the constitution of a rock?”

He’s ten shots of tequila in while she’s only had three. She’s buzzed but there’s a flush about his cheeks that’s creeping down his neck. His eyes are glazed over and his movements are slow and _easy_. In fact, this is the most relaxed she’s _ever_ seen him and she admits…

It’s kinda turning her on.

“I’m _not_ drunk,” he insists, but the way he’s stumbling to move closer to her and the clumsy fashion with which he tries to tuck a stray curl behind her ear (and managing to just get even more locks across her face), suggests otherwise.

 _Target is breached_ she thinks as she cackles internally.

She humors him. “Sure you aren’t, sailor,” _barely_. “How ‘bout a dance, then?”

He wrenches himself from her personal space in an exaggerated manner, head and upper body thrown back while his booted feet remain a hairsbreadth away from her own heeled ones and face contorted in the most befuddled expression like she just spoke a mix of the Italian language and Martian to him.

“What?” He grunts.

She smirks. “What’s the matter, Captain,” – she doesn’t know where all the nautical endearments are coming from, just that they _are_ and they’re coming on _strong_ so she’s going with it – “Afraid to get a little _sweaty_?”

Confusion melts away to mischief and, dare she say it, lust as his eyes darken and take in the way her leather dress hugs her curves tightly and how the heels on her feet scream ‘fuck me’.

“More like, afraid you won’t be able to handle it,” he slurs as he (weakly) pokes a finger on her chest. At least she thinks that _he_ thinks he was able to aim for her chest cause it just lands somewhere on her bellybutton. She isn’t surprised about that because ever since he’s let a little bit of the gentleman go and given way to the _pirate_ , he hasn’t stopped staring at her chest. Not too difficult for him to do, seeing as the plunging neckline of her dress leaves little to the imagination.

Emma adores Killian’s soft side, she really does. But tonight, she’s here for the pirate and with the alcohol coursing through his veins, _well_.

Let’s just say, she’s unleashed the kraken.

Speaking of, “I think we’ve established that _you’re_ the one who couldn’t handle it.”

“Fair enough,” he attempts to straighten up, like the military man he is on the inside, and she’s surprised (but also not given the amount of tequila in his system) he’s giving in so easily.

“If the princess wants to dance, I’m but a servant willing to oblige.”

He holds his hand out in front of her face as if to ask her to waltz (yeah, _in the club_ ) and she’s about to take it amusedly when he snatches it right back.

“Wait,” it’s then that he seems to have noticed that they are indeed, in a club full of sweat, horny, grinding people and that a waltz might not exactly be in fashion or anywhere near the realm of appropriate forwhere they are.

“What… what am I supposed to do?”

Emma’s smile widens because oh, how the tables have turned and she fucking _loves_ this.

“It’s just a dance, babe. Besides,” She gives him one more shot of tequila, clinking her own glass against his before they chug them down together. “There’s only one rule, pick a partner _who knows what she’s doing_.”

She clutches at the lapels of his leather jacket as she drags him to the dance floor with not an ounce of grace. But he’s drunk and she’s drunk and the alcohol is making her equally loose and brave and the dress she’s wearing is sexy as fuck, _she’s_ feeling sexy as fuck and Killian is sex on legs (as Ruby tells her each time they meet) and this _song_ … She fucking _loves_ this song, it’s her _jaaaam_. The bass is strong, vibrating through her chest and urging her to _move._

Preferably against her pirate boyfriend’s hot body.

So she entwines her fingers with his one hand before making a grab for his prosthetic and putting it against her ass.

The gentleman breaks through the haze of alcohol for a bit at the gesture but she just squeezes his hand.

“Relax, Killian,” she breathes against his ear as she places that same hand on her ass as well. She tangles her fingers in his hair. “ _Just go with it_.”

And then she leads.

She sways her hips suggestively against his, where they are perfectly aligned, and the movement spurs Killian on judging by the way he squeezes her bottom and moves to her that much closer as he matches her steps.

He always was a real fast learner.

A few minutes into their dancing, she’s not so much leading as they are both flowing into each other. Killian grows bolder as his footing grows stronger and he more comfortable. Then they’re laughing as he spins her out then in, her back against his chest.

She moves a hand to his hair and plays with the locks at the nape of his neck with her head thrown back and resting on his shoulder. Her other hand follows his left as it maps her body starting from the side of her breast, down the length of her side before resting just short of the hem of her dress which falls to her mid-thigh. Her eyes close when she feels his lips nibbling her ear, gasps when his lips close around the skin at the juncture of her neck where she is most sensitive and, there isn’t any actual need for them to move _so close_ together there’s practically no space between them. But the music is loud and intoxicating and they’re just _lost_ in it and each other, like they’re just an extension of one another. She isn’t even sure if what they’re doing classifies as dancing so much as pressing against each other while swaying slightly –-- just barely conscious of the beat of the sound as it thrums through their bodies.

But _she’s_ hyperaware of Killian’s body as it responds to both the music and _her_. Can feel the length of him where it is pressed between her ass cheeks and suddenly, she can no longer _wait_.

She needs to have him and she needs to have him _now_.

Which is why she doesn’t think twice about shoving him into the tiny ass bathroom of the club and launching herself, full body, against him.

His head hits the tile behind him _hard_ but he doesn’t care, not when Emma’s pressed against him, her hands fucking _everywhere_ and her latching onto his lips like it’s the air she _breathes_.

He’s not inept, not by a long shot, but he is so terribly _drunk_ that he’s overwhelmed. His hand alternates between placing itself by her hip, tangling his fingers in her hair, caressing her cheek or just outright groping her breast.

He settles for the small of her back where he pushes her impossibly closer to him. He shifts his legs so that Emma fits comfortably in the space between where she can surely feel the effect she’s had on him ever since she stepped out of her loft in her sham of a ‘dress’ (it’s but a piece of cloth covering her essential parts!) and has only escalated with all the alcohol and the… the… the _grinding_ (there really is no other way to put it) they were doing on the dance floor.

The pressure down there becomes all too much and with Emma’s tongue rubbing deliciously against his own in a battle for dominance (that they’re both just all too willing to lose to), he completely lets go of being the gentleman.

It’s his turn to pin her against the wall with a growl and Emma thinks, fucking _finally_ , as she moans, long and loud, when he gets her to wrap a leg around his hip. His mouth moves down to her neck and her shoulder where she knows he’s most probably leaving a trail of lip-shaped bruises but she can’t find it in herself to care, not when he’s bunching her skirt up and she can feel him wanting and _hard_ between her thighs.

He’s pulling at the straps of her dress but his movements are rushed and clumsy and if he had his hook she’s sure that her clothes would be torn to shreds by now. But she’s just as frustrated as him, which is why she shoves him away, long enough to unzip the side of her dress and bare herself to him.

He nearly comes undone right there at the sight of her.

She’s completely naked from the waist up, her chest heaving and her pink nipples pebbled from arousal. The green is nearly gone from her eyes, pupils dilated with desire.

Her breasts are thrust invitingly towards him as she moves her arms back to prop herself on the bathroom sink counter. He takes her fill of him cause she’s a fucking vision, with her dress bunched around her middle and her legs spread wide as they swing back and forth, the heels on her feet and the look of unbridled lust on her face making her just much more enticing.

She’s a bloody _minx_ and she’ll be the death of him.

Emma grows tired of waiting as she brings a hand to pinch at her nipple while the other slowly trails to the apex of her thighs where she is hot and _aching_.

“You gonna hop on board, pirate, or am I going to have to finish this by myself?”

He growls as he stomps towards her. He shoves the hand making its way to her folds and then he is kneeling in front of her and _oh god_.

He’s drunk and he’s got one hand but he wasn’t joking when he once told her that _everything else was still intact_ because now he’s using that one hand to spread her folds and she’s so fucking wet, _Jesus_ and Killian, he just dives right in –-- lapping at her juices like he’s in the desert and she’s the only body of water around.

Somewhere in the back of her head, she realizes that Sober Emma would probably be ashamed of the sounds coming out of her mouth.

But then Killian alternates between sucking at her clit and fucking her with his tongue that Drunk Emma quickly shoves Sober Emma back into the deep recesses of her mind with another moan.

She’s pulling at his hair because she needs something to anchor her lest she float away and she’s close. She’s so fucking _close_ , that when he unceremoniously thrusts two fingers into her pussy, Emma comes.

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” She mutters repeatedly, holding his head down there like that’s exactly where he should belong as she rides out her pleasure. She’ll probably have beard burns along her inner thigh by the morning but she gives no fucks at all when she’s just been given one hell of an orgasm.

Killian slows the pace of his fingers as he brings her down from her high and his smile is smug and lazy when he lifts his head towards her. She groans when he withdraws his fingers but then the bastard brings them to his mouth and licks at them like a fucking lollipop, tongue stroking each digit from the bottom up before releasing them with a ‘pop’.

“Forget tequila, Swan. I could get drunk on you.” He licks his lips sinfully and Emma traces the path his tongue makes across his bottom lip. “You taste _divine_.”

She’s just come but those words have got her rearing to go again.

So she grabs him by his belt and proceeds to claw his jeans away from him. She manages to unbuckle his belt and Killian eagerly shoves them down to his knees.

Emma gathers the precum at the tip of his cock before running her hand along the very thick, very _large_ , length of him. Killian groans, something low and intoxicating at the back of his throat that makes Emma feel _powerful_ and drunker than the alcohol ever could have made her as he thrusts in time with her strokes. She gives him a few more pumps before whispering in his ear, “next time” and wrapping her legs around his hips.

His cock easily slips in, of fucking course it does, she’s practically weeping down there and they’re literally, a fucking symphony because they’re both moaning and panting in pleasure.

He stops when he’s all the way in and _gods_ but she’s warm and _tight_ and it takes all of his willpower to not just claim her and keep driving _into_ her like he really wants to.

Emma though, Emma _really_ wantshim to fuck her silly, ever since he tied that damn scarf with his teeth back in the beanstalk really so, “Killian,” she whines, purposely clenching her walls around him and causing his knees to buckle. “Just _take me_ already.”

“With fucking _pleasure_ ,” he growls.

The sharp edges of the counter dig into the skin of her thighs and the heel of her shoe is piercing one of his ass cheeks but none of that matters. Not when Killian’s pulling his cock all the way out and thrusting it back in in quick successions. Not when she’s meeting his hard and demanding pace, thrust for thrust.

The drag of his cock is delicious against the walls of her cunt, and his mouth is a hot paradise as he closes it around her nipple while his hand massages her other breast. He sets an unrelenting pace, his balls slapping against the skin of her ass to the force with which he is propelling into her.

She opens her mouth to his as he moves up to kiss her and _oh god_ , she _likes_ how she can taste herself on his tongue. Thinks how, coupled with the traces of tequila she senses, she could _definitely_ get drunk on this.

There is nothing skilled or perfect about their coupling but that’s okay. They can do slow later. They’re raw and passionate and _hungry_ and right now, this is what she wants.

He moves his upper body away from her and she whimpers at the momentary loss of warmth. But that’s forgotten when he drops one of her legs to the floor while moving the other to rest over his shoulder. She’s spread even wider this way that even _she’s_ amazed at herself for being this flexible.

The position allows the curve of his cock to perfectly hit that spot inside of her that she’s sure will tip her over the edge and he can tell she’s close by the way her walls start fluttering against his length and the intensity with which her moans come out.

“I’m going to come,” she manages to gasp out so he brings his thumb to rub fast but sloppy circles over her clit but she doesn’t care because–

–“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh _fuck_ I’m coming,” and she is, the magnitude of her orgasm has her curling her toes and grasping at something, the wall, his shoulders, God maybe, _anything_ cause she feels breathless and so high up. 

But it doesn’t slow Killian at all, just drives him to chase his own release even _faster_ just to be there with her. He sees the way Emma’s mouth is parted in a silent scream, how her chest is flushed, her breasts are heaving with the effort to _breathe_ and her back is arched in ecstasy.

The sight of her sends him over the edge. Their combined pleasure washes over them in waves and Killian helps the both of them ride it out as he spills his seed inside her greedy cunt with a drawn out moan.

He drops her leg then and only manages to catch himself from collapsing on top of her with an arm braced against the counter as she clings tightly at his shoulders.

Not even the music wafting to the door from the club muffles the sound of their heavy breathing.

“Oh my god,” she says into the tiled room.

“I know.”

“ _Oh my god_.”

“I _know_.”

“Holy shit,” she puffs as she shakes her head in disbelief, “if this is how you fuck drunk then I can’t _wait_ till we fuck sober.”

“It’s safe of me to assume then,” he says between pants, eyes closed to catch his breath, “that this is not a one-time thing?”

“ _Hell no,_ after _that_ performance? I don’t think I’m letting you out of my bed. _Ever_.”

He laughs then but looks slightly horrified when he finally takes in their surrounding, unable to do so the first time what with her shoving her tongue down his throat in an effort to devour him and him, her. “Swan, this place is _filthy_.”

She snickers as she leans into him, forehead pressed against his while she nibbles on his bottom lip and pulls it between her teeth just a moment before releasing it. He groans.

“After what we just did? You bet your ass it is.”

Just then, a banging on the door interrupts their basking in the afterglow and they freeze.

(She silently thanks god for small miracles and that she even thought to lock the door at all)

“Are you motherfuckers done fucking? Cause some of us actually need to take a _real_ piss.”

There’s a beat of silence before they burst out laughing, the reality of what they’ve just done sobering their minds and the reminder that there are _actual_ people who are _actually_ going to be using the bathroom for its intended purpose, spurring them on.

They get dressed in record time.

When they open the door, it’s to a red-faced man muttering “ _finally_ ” before barreling into them, effectively breaking the link that their hands had made, and slamming the door on their behinds.

They push past sweaty bodies (Emma making a quick detour to get her credit card from the bartender) and stumble onto the sidewalk, hands at their sides as they laugh themselves into a frenzy as they recall the events of the night.

“What did I tell you, Jones?” She taunts as they settle down their giggles, “I _told_ you I’d get you drunk!”

His grin is sheepish. “Indeed you did, love. Remind me never to bet against you then.”

“And did you have _fun_?” she singsongs, stepping towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He rests his arms on her hips and pulls her closer. “Aye, the most in 300 years.”

He runs a finger along her temple, traces the apple of her cheek before dropping it altogether and running his nose along the bridge of her own.

“Thank you for letting me into your world, Emma.”

She smiles and he takes that moment to capture her lips in his own so that he may taste the happiness behind her smile too.

This time their actions are a complete opposite. Like if the club’s atmosphere made them feel rushed and giddy, the light of the moonlight as it bounces off Killian’s hair and Emma’s eyes now makes them feel soft and vulnerable.

 _This time_ , their kiss sweet and unhurried and as much as Emma is fond of _rough_ , she finds that these kisses are by far, the more superior ones and her absolute _favorite_.

 _Oh yeah_ , she thinks. _Mission accomplished_.

But as they stumble to her car on shaky legs and matching shit-eating grins, she feels the skeleton of a new mission, one that involves ice cubes and headboards banging against the wall of their hotel room, form in the hazy front of her mind.

The night is young, after all.

“What happens now?” He asks just as she finishes the thought and she giggles at the way he bounces at the balls of his feet in excitment.

She shrugs coyly. “I don’t know. I don’t _care_. We’ll find ourselves in a new adventure soon enough.”

His heart beats double time at the easy way the promise slips from her lips.

“A new adventure, huh?” he says with a smirk as he entangles their fingers.  

He does _so_ _love_ an adventure.

Especially if it means getting to be by Emma Swan’s side.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also my first time writing and publishing smut. Any thoughts? Constructive criticism? Improvements? Would love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
